Chapter 1: Living

I live.

Yet, could it be a real life worth living*?

– – –

* I dare you to tell me this is worth living.

– – –

Locked in an iron prison hundreds of feet below ground, with only the glowing letters bobbing atop my head for company as they reflected off the mirror and cast pitiful light over the metal floors?

63 – 11 – 321 – 54 … 53 … 52 …

I sat staring as these numbers ticked backwards. Second by second, my life was dragging by me, very painfully. I wish I didn't know when I was supposed to die, then I'm constantly counting down. Ignorance is bliss, but only you are ignorant of something you would rather not know.

The numbers were the only way I could tell the time, and therefore made the ordeal much more painful. A watched kettle never boils*, and worse, when you know when it should boil, that time never comes.

– – –

* I love old witticisms, they sound very wise and such, but they are mostly false. I've watched a kettle boil before. The only reason I used the quote here is because it know that it will be a while before I boil (die). I am also aware that I will probably die some way or another, time always catches up to everyone, even though he's a little sluggish.

– – –

However, my numbers are increasingly inaccurate*. There were many times when my death date was dangerously close, then snapped back fifty years. I've learned to ignore these 'close calls'. I suppose the only use for the numbers is to keep track of time. They were the most accurate clock.

I was somewhere in Arizona, USA. Buried hundreds of feet below the surface, in Death Valley. Not too many murderers get this type of treatment. Many spend their time in federal prison. But no, not me.

I got my own personal torture facility built just for me**. It wasn't that my crime was so terrible, It was because my enemies knew that I was a genius. Severely insane ***, but a genius nevertheless. They knew, that if I ever got out, I would be angry. They also knew, that wasn't very good for their health.

– – –

* Damn right, even though my ticking is accurate my numbers frequently spaz. One day I might have ten minutes left, winding me up so tight that I can't help twitching and walking into walls; then the years will decide they would like a bigger number, and I end up with four-hundred years on my clock.

** Joy, yipee. F**k.

*** Obviously don't be surprised. Just because I'm writing to you doesn't mean I'm not a blundering idiot who foams at the mouth and leaps out of windows regularly. Not saying I am any of these...

– – –

Being insane doesn't meddle with your thinking ability. It effects your judgments, morals and ethnics. I can still think clearly, but now, all that thought if focused on things that the normal person wouldn't even think of doing. I'm insane. I've lost all the good qualities. They all have dried up, leaving a pit off violence and corruptness. Everything that makes me human.

That made me a something living without cause. I still clung to life, my life, by reflex. My grip on the living was strong, and anything that got in the way of it was destroyed with animalistic ruthlessness.

Except that some things couldn't be destroyed, for example iron walls.

Please note, they don't give you weapons* in prison.

Prison.

It was always night here. Not the night you want to spend time in. It was the kind of night where it is freezing cold, and the air smells like blood**, the silence is heavy and strangles away at your humanity, and no stars can be seen. It is a normal night in...say Alaska, after the Huskies kill a rabbit. Without the pine trees, and soft snow that melts against your skin. Without those bright clear stars, and the Northern Lights. Without a fire, where food roasts and sizzles, and –

It's no use forming wondrous work pictures. I'm stuck three hundred feet below sea level, in a cast iron box, and fifty-odd guards to stare at me while I stare back and watch their numbers tick. \

– – –

* I use weapons on the broadest terms here, I really mean bulldozer and/or tank, because a bullet doesn't penetrate cast iron and neither does it dig. But true, they don't give us (me) weapons. Not even knives.

** Not really blood. Iron smells like blood and this is me hallucinating.

– – –

Reality is harsh.

Life is harsh.

I hate life.

It hates mine.

I am stuck here until I die. Why? I killed three people who would have nevertheless died weather I had interfered or not.

Or, perhaps, the numbers I read were so close because Fate knew I was going to kill them. I suppose that Fate was beyond caring for those poor souls and let me steal away their lives, despite Life's protestings.

Me and Fate. Not exactly enemies, simply partners in crime, teetering on the line of normality and leaning on the side opposite of whichever side Life was on. We never really liked each other anyway.

Life on the other hand... we raged against each other like light rages against darkness.

It disliked me, I hated it.

Our quarrels never ended. We squabbled constantly.

My life against the whole of Life.

Interesting isn't it?

I never understood life. I never will. And never make an effort to. All I know about it is that it hates mine, and wishes to have the life that sustains me, to return to it.

I wish life would die, but that just isn't possible. Because it's impossible and I know that, I won't go ahead and try anyways. I'm too smart for that. It's a battle I'll never win, no matter how hard I fight.

I'll fight.

I won't try for the cause. But I'll fight.

I'll fight, like a demon out of hell.

But Life has everyone on it's side.

Yes, I'll fight everybody, and Life.

When Life wants me dead.

I fight.*

Fate wants to kill Life?

I fight with Fate.

– – –

*Don't try this at home kids, you get spanked. Parents don't like too much defience.

– – –

I'm not dead. But I would much rather be instead of enduring this everlasting night.

Don't get me wrong, Fate is powerful. But I have no reason to worship it. I can deal with insane turns of events. That's all Fate is, so Fate has no hold over me. It has turned to world against me, it killed everyone I care about, It has twisted everything so much that my brother wants to kill me. When it finally decided it couldn't break me it dumped me into this asylum to rot.

If Life didn't exist(I wouldn't exist) than I would fight Fate.

But both me, and Fate hate Life. Fate asked me for help, and I gave it. Fate is now in debt to me, and I intend to collect soon.

So I fight.

A wait in jail isn't going to break my spirit.

I'll continue to fight.

I stood gingerly, Stretched, and smashed the mirror with a hard kick(Jiu-Jitsu). The glass tinkled as shrapnel hit the floor with purposeful directness, making an awful racket.

A guard shouted and I heard running footsteps.

The guard called a couple of other guards and approached the door, shouting, "Alright Convict! What's going on."

They were scared out of their minds. I could tell by their harsh breathing. From the sound of the footsteps, they were either brawny, or sadly obese. By the way the metal echoed, there were about five of them.

A familiar twisted grin clawed it's way across my face and I licked my lips.

Lets see if I can bust out of this place.

"Okay, Birthday. Just put your hands up and turn your back to us." The guard's voice was shaking. He really hoped that I would do as he said. No... not a chance.

Was I really that scary?*

– – –

*Really I'm not THAT weird looking.

– – –

I stood tense in the darkness, my numbers reflecting sharply off the shattered mirror on the floor.

19056 – 357 - 0 – 78364 …5 … 456 …

They had stopped ticking, and frozen, and spasmed. I wasn't going to die today. Not now, not ever. Fate had taken my side, Fate needs me and is meddling with Life for my sake.

I stood, waiting like a caged demon. I was a caged demon, but soon I would be a free demon, free to wreck my vengeance on the world, with my partner, Fate, laughing alongside me.

But first, I wait. I wait for my victims to run to me and try to stop the demon. The demon with red eyes and black hair. The demon named Beyond Birthday.

Fate waits for me outside.

He needs my help to kill Life.

So I'll fight.